


One Flower Is Better Than None

by GretchenSinister



Series: My Top 10 JackRabbit Fics [9]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22397980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "AUBunny is the spirit of spring and Jack is the spirit of winter, two powerful beings always at odds.But there’s a reason blizzards happen in the middle of budding spring. No matter how much Bunny thinks it’s Jack torturing him, the real reason is that Jack is madly in love with the spirit of spring.But spring and winter are opposites. They can only ever be together in the overlap, where winter chases spring, or when spring takes over winter–and for immortals, a week or so is a horribly short time to be with each other.TL;DR Jack is winter, Bunny is spring. They want to be together, but all they get is a day or a week between their seasons."There are two brief sections to this fill, the first is from Jack’s perspective, the second is from Bunny’s. Both of them are just starting to come to terms with the idea that they might want to be together as lovers, despite their opposing natures.
Relationships: E. Aster Bunnymund/Jack Frost
Series: My Top 10 JackRabbit Fics [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589287
Kudos: 42
Collections: JackRabbit Short Fics





	One Flower Is Better Than None

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 4/4/2016.

Loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou  
  
Can you hear how it echoes you wear such large ears so often  
  
Can you hear what I’m saying in the rush and babble of the streams swollen with snowmelt? How will I know when you do? I hope I’ll know. I hope I’ll know because sometimes it makes me want to scream, not knowing if you hear me, and when I scream the winds come and the snow and ice come and oh the snowmelt freezes and it’s not a gift anymore, it’s a curse killing all your beautiful things  
  
But then.  
  
Not all your beautiful things  
  
Some of them are much stronger than they look, little white and purple things, pushing into my snow even when I haven’t even thought about retreating yet, when I have weeks to go before I cede the ground to you  
  
I love them, I love them, and could you have made them for me, so that I could see some flowers while I am at peace, and not while struggling, dying, waiting for you?  
  
If you made them for me, that would be enough—no, it wouldn’t, I lie. But we’re not human enough for what I want, are we? How did I start to want the things I do without being able to act on them? Was it watching humans? But there’s no reason I should want what I do.  
  
I don’t know how you’ve made the form I’ve seen you wear. All I can manage is a wisp of a young man, copied from one I killed.  
  
Even if I could stay him instead of dissolving into wind, I fear his death would always stand between us. I kill. You bring life.  
  
How can you believe me if I say I love you not to kill you, if I say I love you for everything about you that drives me away as the world slowly turns?  
  


* * *

  
  
Loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou  
  
I can hear it, I hear it every year.  
  
Didn’t know if it was true at first, didn’t know if I wanted it to be true, didn’t know if you understood what you were saying.  
  
Found out all those answers are yes. And now I don’t know what to do. Because to find out those answers I started watching you, and learning what was true, and I think I want to echo back to you what you’re shouting to me, what only reaches me faintly when the year turns as it should.  
  
But if I do want to tell you  
  
Loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou  
  
I don’t know how. All the best things I have to give are the same as the weapons I use to push you back. If I send earlier and earlier crocuses and snowdrops to you, will you understand that it’s not for hate anymore? If I let you linger, will you understand that I’m not ignoring you?  
  
You have a voice, you have a body; how can I show you that you should dare to speak to me, to walk towards me?  
  
I drink your melting snow and know that you are more alive than you yet know.  
  
When will you know? Will you speak to me, then?  
  
We would never have long, I know this, I know this with every long turn of the earth. But oh, have you not heard what people say? Have you not heard them respond to what I do? One flower is so, so much better than none.  
  
Even one day would be better than none.  
  
And we could have more than this. You cannot hurt me; winter has never yet held back spring.  
  
But I do not know how to make you understand. If we were human, I would write you a note. But we are not, even if you wear your man-shape more and more.  
  
Perhaps that is enough. Or perhaps it will be enough. Let us meet in our shapes, if we cannot meet in ourselves.  
  
One flower is better than none.


End file.
